The Garden House

“Well, what do you think? Are you okay with having him as a tenant for the summer? Or do you want to set up your studio? Because I thought about it, and maybe it’s time to make those changes. Put up that wall, if you want. Make the window bigger.”

Miranda took a sip of wine and looked away. “I’m not quite ready yet for the studio. Fall will be soon enough.”

They ordered their meals, and then she began to butter a piece of bread. “I’m actually kind of glad that the garden house will be used. It’s such a pretty place. And William really seemed to appreciate the garden.”

“Then he’ll be the perfect tenant,” laughed Ben. His phone rang and he frowned at the name. “Sorry, Honey. It’s the Difficult client,” he said, stepping away to take the call.

Miranda held the wine glass in her hand and gazed out the window. The sun was lowering in the west. A pair of Canadian geese glided onto the water, making long golden ripples that widened into dark lines flecked with shimmery pink and orange. I could paint that, she thought. Just the water. If only I could capture that ephemeral beauty, those fleeting shades of color and light.

Ben sat back down, shaking his head. “Now she wants the sunroom where the kitchen is, and she wants the kitchen – Oh, well. No need to talk about work now.” He clasped Miranda’s hand.

His warm hand brought her back into the moment. She gazed into his smiling eyes, and impulsively brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “You make me happy, Ben.”

He gave a start of mock surprise. “Is that the wine talking?”

She laughed. “Maybe it is. But you do make me happy. You always have.”

Ben’s face filled with pleasure and he squeezed her hand. “I hope so.”